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The rich scent permeated through the waves like his teeth pierced flesh. It was tantalizingly sweet and so potent that it could dominate the other senses and turn a Mur into a mindless beast. Drift was fortunate enough to be above such impulses. For now, at least.
However, as he approached the source of the scent, some of his base instincts were more difficult to contain. The spines along his arms rose, his gills flared, and a deep growl rumbled inside his chest. His tail pushed harder against the current, moving faster through the sea. Perhaps pushing his body like this was inadvisable, but there was a valid reason for all of this.
A Mer in heat. Based on the scent, they were nearing the peak of their cycle.
It had been a long time since he last mated with another. The individual only caught his interest for a short time, and as soon as the heat was over, they went their separate ways. Nature led his kind to reproduce and spread their genes to the next generation, but Drift longed for something more. He longed for a life partner. A conjunx, one to treasure and share his territory, home, and life with. Maybe this time would be different.
The scent became stronger the closer he got to its source, and Drift could barely contain himself. He maneuvered through a patch of kelp to not reveal himself too quickly and peaked between the individual leaves. He stilled.
There lay the most beautiful Mer Drift had ever seen. A body of the purest white with red accents, a fluke similar to a dolphin, and a bountiful bosom. Bio lights were layered across his body, giving the beauty an ethereal appearance. The Mer had a red crest and, below that, the bluest eyes he had ever seen—bluer than ocean’s waters!
At first glance, the Mer appeared delicate, but one look at those sharp claws and the toned muscles of that tail indicated otherwise. If Drift wasn’t careful, the right to mate wouldn’t be the only thing he would lose.
It seemed he had hit the jackpot with this one. It would be foolish if he let this catch slip through his talons.
He retreated for now. Now that he had found the source of the tantalizing aroma, he needed to prepare for one hell of a show. If he wanted this Mer to come to him willingly, he needed to ready his home, food supplies…and himself.
()()()
A croon sounded from behind him, loud enough to instantly catch Ratchet’s attention. A large Mer emerged from the kelp bed, looking dangerous and imposing despite the sound emanating from its chest.
The Mer was of shark origins if the tail and fins were anything to go by. His body was the richest black, while his underbelly was white. Unlike the rest of his body, his chest was striped with red bio lights, accentuating the dark, imposing look. Long, sharp talons peaked between his webbed digits, looking like they could easily tear flesh—the embodiment of a perfect hunter.
A part of Ratchet was on edge at the potential danger. However, the part infected with this damned heat hummed at the sight. This Mer was the perfect example of a prime mate worthy of claiming his heat. His instincts sang at the thought of a soft den, regular meals, and a belly full of fertilized eggs.
But Ratchet wouldn’t give in so easily; his instincts and pride forbade it. He crouched in a defensive position.
“Be at ease. I’m not here to harm you.”
“Is that so?” Ratchet was far from naïve.
“Yes. The last thing I want to do is harm you in any way,” warbled the dark Mer. “Quite the opposite, actually.” He began circling the cycling Mer. “I scented you from afar and knew there was something worth claiming. When I found you, however, I never imagined encountering such a beauty.”
“Did you, now?” Ratchet scoffed. “I’m not so easily fooled by flattery. If you’re here to claim my heat, you best prove you’re worthy.” His tail whipped to the side, his body turning to face the other. “I won’t give in to empty bluffs and false promises.”
Drift chuckled. “Of course not. I’d expect nothing less from a gem like you.
“So, got a name, darlin’? Mine is Drift.”
The other rolled his optics at the pet name, but Drift noted how the lights on his tail brightened, and a slight blush painted his cheeks. He grinned.
“It’s Ratchet.”
“Ratchet,” he purred. “Lovely.” His body briefly brushed against the cycling Mer, causing their bio-lights to flutter. “Here.”
Dipping down to the kelp, Drift hauled a very large shark carcass. Blood still dripped from the fatal wounds, indicating the freshness of the kill. “A token of my affection and an example of what I can provide for myself and those under my domain.”
Ratchet’s reaction was priceless. A pleased rumble, a tremble of his fins, and, if Drift saw correctly, a twitch of the slit by the base of the Mur’s tail. The source of that succulent smell.
Soon enough, Drift would get a close-up view of such a prize. If he were lucky, he would lay claim to the entire Mur before the peak of their cycle.
It would seem fate had other ideas.
Whether the scent of the kill, the Mur in heat, or a combination of both, it served as a beacon to other unwanted guests.
Another Mur emerged from the ocean’s depths at a hurried pace. Drift immediately placed himself before Ratchet, hackles raised and body tense. The stranger’s approach slowed as he shortened the distance between them. Its gaze was locked on Ratchet, crooning appreciatively until Drift maneuvered to block its view with an enraged growl and extended fangs.
The stranger hissed, baring its own fangs and meeting his stance.
A challenger for the right to court Ratchet. Drift would not allow him a chance to get close. They met with a resounding clash.
The battle was arduous, a mess of teeth, tail, and claw. Blood quickly stained the ocean’s waters, both contenders dealing heavy blows. Ultimately, however, Drift was the victor. The challenger escaped with missing fins and a lacerated body.
He would have finished the Mer personally but did not want to leave Ratchet unguarded. So, with a chest full of pride, he watched the contender limp far away. If Drift were lucky, the Mer would only survive for a short time.
A wistful serenade broke his musings, and Drift turned to the sound—only to be met with an armful of Mer.
“How bad is the pain? Where is the worst of it? Don’t move too much, or you’ll strain yourself!”
This was…unexpected, but Drift would be the last person to deny being fussed over by a gorgeous mech like Ratchet.
“I can heal you. Take me where your den is, and I can help you get these patched up.”
He blinked.
Did Ratchet really say…? Did he want to…? Did he know what he was implying…?
“So, does this mean what I think it means? Do you really want to be mine?” He needed to be sure.
The lovely mech paused, optics staring right into his own. The ocean was still around them.
Slowly, oh so slowly, did Ratchet approach. With a gentleness that had Drift lightheaded, Ratchet cradled his head and leaned in for a kiss.
If that wasn’t enough of an answer, Drift didn’t know what was.
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Oh, Drift was certainly in danger and a danger far worse than his battle with the contender.
He was becoming addicted to the beautiful Mer in his arms—the very Mer currently wrapped around his spikes and screaming out his name, lost to the throes of heat.
His grip around those voluptuous hips tightened as his thrusts became faster, harder, deeper. He wanted Ratchet to be his completely. He wanted Ratchet to continue screaming and moaning until his voice grew hoarse. He wanted Ratchet to beg and plead; to continue grinding his hips against Drift’s, so the fat node at the top of his slit was constantly stimulated. He wanted to bury himself as far as he could inside Ratchet and fill him with his transfluid. He wanted to fill him until he burst—until all his eggs were sprayed with Drift’s spend and fertilized.
He wanted to be there when they grew in Ratchet’s belly. He wanted to attend to Ratchet’s every want and need, no matter how high the cost. He wanted to be there when they were laid and when they hatched. He wanted to raise them with Ratchet as a single-family unit. He wanted to mate with Ratchet again and again—to create many generations of offspring from the two of them.
He wanted to keep Ratchet forever. Not just as a mating partner, but as a conjunx. To love and cherish for eternity.
With that thought, Drift overloaded inside of Ratchet with a roar, grinding his hips so that his spend would reach the deepest depths of his mate’s chamber. He felt the other’s grip on his shoulders tighten as Ratchet threw his head back and howled, valve milking his two spikes with delectable undulations.
They remained tied together for a long while.
Drift shifted first, slowly withdrawing until only the heads remained inside. With a grunt, fluid ejaculated into the opening in a long spray. It was a gel-like fluid that coated the last row of interior nodes and the outer lips of the valve, acting somewhat like a seal. Its purpose was to trap any transfluid inside the cycling Mer after a coupling, ensuring higher chances of fertilization.
Drift watched as the gel-like substance solidified before the outer valve lips closed around it, sealing the fluid behind them. He purred.
This was, of course, a temporary solution. When Ratchet’s heat peaked again, his spikes would break the seal, and another round of fun would begin.
He couldn’t wait.
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The water around him was warm, heated by the summer sun shining from above. The sun’s rays broke through the ocean current like spears, illuminating rock, coral, and sand alike.
It was peaceful around this time of year. With a nice, soft bed of seaweed to lay on and an overhanging rock formation providing enough shade, Ratchet couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else for a nice midday nap.
That was until…
Thump.
“Tag! You’re it!”
“Not fair. You cheated!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“Did not!!!”
“Did too!!”
Ah right. He has children now. Peace and quiet did not exist for him.
Sighing, Ratchet turned—well, as much as he was able to in his condition—and watched as two of his pups argued in front of him over the rules of a nonsensible game. The other two were by a small area of sand, playing with seashells. One of the pups suddenly swam over and brought a little trinket to his face, showing it off with pride.
The Mer smiled at the sight of his children being children, whether playing a silly little game or creating pretty necklaces for their parents and siblings. It appeared, however, that the little spat was quickly turning heated. Just when he was about to break the squabble—
“Pups! Leave you dam alone and play somewhere else.”
Like a school of petrified fish, the children scattered. The sight was nearly comical to laugh at. Unfortunately, the action would only make him gasp for breath. Ratchet settled for an amused smirk as his children found another spot to play in, heading their sire’s demand.
Hands ran across his flank, digging deep enough to massage the taught muscle and causing Ratchet to moan. Those hands continued their voyage across the space of his round belly, taking great care to caress the smooth flesh.
Very soon, their next batch of eggs would be laid, and then another, and then another. Soon Drift and he would need to expand their nest for their growing litter of pups. With Drift’s excellent hunting skills and large territory, they needn’t worry about providing for their young.
He was indeed lucky to find such a wonderful conjunx.
“Sleep, love,” Drift whispered. “I’ll watch over you as you rest.”
How could Ratchet refuse such a request?